


Now or Never

by jardinsdeminuit



Category: Diabolik Lovers
Genre: Abuse, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Knifeplay, Lemon, Light Bondage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Revenge, Rough Sex, Sadism, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25943020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jardinsdeminuit/pseuds/jardinsdeminuit
Summary: Yui attempts to do something she should have done a long time ago. Unfortunately for her, Laito decides to teach her a lesson in why you should never outsmart your master.
Relationships: Komori Yui/Sakamaki Laito, Sakamaki Laito/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 70





	Now or Never

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for the Dia fandom and I loved it. This fic is based on HDB and it is peak Laito, so please regard the warnings. Also, leave a comment if you enjoyed! I'm always open to feedback.
> 
> Edit 20/11/20: Thanks for 1000+ hits! ❤️

I pause in the corridor and take a deep, shaky breath. At last, the time has come. I was so certain in coming here, so determined, but now that I'm outside his door, a wave of fear rises inside me. I try to fight it down. My whole life depends on getting these next few moments right. I can't afford to be nervous now.

Bending down, I put my eye to the keyhole and peer into the room. The curtains are closed, so I can only just make out the figure lying in the double bed pushed up against the right wall. For several seconds, I watch him. He doesn't move.

Of course, there's every chance he's only faking sleep. Perhaps he's already sensed me outside his door and is laying a trap. Either way, I decide to take the risk.

I take hold of the handle and turn it as slowly as I can. As far as I know, he's the only brother who doesn't lock his door while he sleeps – a point of pride, most likely, for a man who believes himself to be invincible. Well, tonight he's going to learn a lesson about pride. I'll make sure of it.

The door opens. I walk in and close it behind me, cutting the two of us off from the outside world. Then I approach the bed and look down.

Laito Sakamaki lays on his side, eyes closed. Tucked up under the covers, he looks younger than his years and deceptively innocent. It's hard to think that this is the same man who has made my life a living hell over the past few weeks, the man who's tormented me and drained my blood more times than I can count.

As the memories race through my head, my admiration of his sleeping form turns into disgust, and I raise the items I clutch in my hand.

There's nothing fancy about what I carry with me. These tools haven't been dipped in holy water or blessed by a priest. I found the hammer in the garden shed, and the stake I whittled myself from an old piece of wood. It's just a little thicker than my thumb and as long as my hand. I spent several days working the point with a pocket knife, making sure that it was as sharp as I could get it so that when the time came, it would do its job.

Time to put it to the test.

I hold my breath as I angle the stake over Laito's heart. Then I place the head of the hammer against the end. I have one shot at this. One shot at piercing his heart and ending it all. No matter what the other brothers do to me after this, it'll be worth it just to have the satisfaction of ending this monster's life.

I pull back the hammer, ready to smash it back down.

Laito's eyes flicker open.

I have a moment to register my own shock before he reaches out, grabs my wrist and jerks me towards him. I hit the bed, and then he's rolling over onto me, pinning me beneath him.

My hands still grip the weapons. In one desperate move, I swing the stake into Laito's back. The point grazes his shoulder, cutting him through his shirt and making him grunt. His hold on my wrist loosens, giving me a single precious second to wriggle out from underneath him.

But it's not enough time. Laito's hand catches me by the throat and slams me back into the mattress. The force of the movement makes me drop my weapons.

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to visit me, Bitch-chan.” Laito's voice is smooth, with just enough playfulness to make it seem like every word is a build-up to some elaborate joke. “You were standing outside my door for so long, I was scared you were getting cold feet.”

So, he knew I'd been here right from the beginning, after all. My heart drops as I realise that, once again, I've played right into his hands.

“And what's this? You brought me a present.” He picks up the wooden stake and examines it. “Were you planning to pierce my heart with this?”

As he speaks, his fingers slowly dig harder into my neck. I try to pull his hand away and kick him off, but with his inhuman strength, it has little more effect than a fly driving itself into glass over and over.

“I must admit, I never thought you would be one for this type of foreplay. Not that I'm complaining. Even now, you're full of surprises.”

He loosens his grip on my throat, only to take hold of a wrist in each hand and pin them beside my head. I splutter as air finally flows into my lungs again. In the darkness, I can only just make out Laito's sharp features, the taunting curve of his mouth, his hair that falls in rust-coloured waves. Like his brothers, he's breathtakingly beautiful, but I know it's just a mask. Underneath, he's more rotten than all of them, a creature whose only purpose in life is to take and destroy from those around him.

He laughs softly. “What's wrong, Bitch-chan? Giving up so easily? I was expecting more a fight from you today.”

I would try to struggle, but there's no way I can best him with my body alone. Luckily, I have one last line of defence even this bastard won't be expecting.

Laito's breath is hot on my skin as he lowers his mouth to my neck. “I suppose I should be touched,” he whispers. “You're finally offering yourself to me unconditionally. Well, I'll make sure to drain twice as much blood in celebration.”

He's deliberately trying to rile me up, and I shouldn't fall for it, but it's hard not to feel a stab of rage at his words.

“As if I would ever give myself to you,” I hiss.

I press my cheek to my shoulder, cutting off his access to my neck. Laito responds by grabbing my hair and wrenching my head back. I whimper at the force of the movement, but he's done what I hoped he would and freed my right hand.

In one swift motion, I reach down beneath my skirt, pull off the square razorblade I've taped to my inner thigh and slash it across the side of his throat.

Laito freezes. His eyes widen. Slowly, he takes the hand that was wrapped in my hair and presses it to his neck. I'm as shocked as he is when his fingertips come back dark and shining.

There's a moment of silence as Laito seems to realise what I've done. Then a pained gasp escapes his lips. Blood trickles down his neck in a thin stream, pooling in his collarbone before dripping onto my chest. With all my strength, I push him off me and leap free of the bed. The razor is still in my hand. I could go back and cut him again, deeper this time, making sure that he stays down for good, but I don't want to push my luck. Even when he's bleeding out, Laito is far stronger than me. I can't give him the chance to grab me again.

At the moment, all that matters is getting as far away from this place as I can.

I race across the room and throw myself at the door. My heart drumming in my ear, I reach for the handle and turn it, but it's stuck. I try again. There's no way this door can be locked, not after I opened it myself just a minute ago.

Something shuffles behind me. Then bloody hands clamp down on top of mine, crushing me against the wood.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?”

All the humour has drained out of Laito's voice. The sound of his gravelly tone sends chills down my spine. I drive my knee into the door over and over and shout at the top of my lungs. Perhaps one of the other brothers – someone like Subaru or Reiji, who cares enough not to let me die here – will hear and break in.

“Shut up,” Laito growls, pulling back his left hand to wrap around my mouth. I can taste the blood on his fingers, warm and coppery, and it makes me sick to my stomach. I'm still clutching the razor against the door. He tries to snake his fingers beneath my palm and take it from me, but I grip it as hard as I can. This is my last weapon against him, and I won't let go for my life.

Laito half-lifts, half-drags me to the bed while I struggle against him. He throws me face-first onto the mattress. I scramble onto my back as he opens the drawer beside his bed and takes something out.

The next thing I know, he seizes my left hand and lashes it to the bed frame with a length of rope.

“Stop it!” I kick out with my knees and prepare to slash at him with the razor again, but he's too fast. He grabs my wrist and tries to pry the razor out for a second time. I squeeze it in my palm, groaning at the agony but knowing that the moment I let go, I'll have no more defence against him.

“Come, now, Bitch-chan. You're just making yourself lose more blood in the long run,” he chimes. The playfulness has returned to his voice. He's enjoying himself again.

He tries a different tactic, wrapping his fingers around mine and squeezing my fist around the razor. The sudden rush of pain is so intense that I howl. My hand begins to shake, and then it's all too easy for him to slip the blade out.

“There, that wasn't so hard, was it?”

Pushing my wrist back against the bed frame, Laito ties it up with the second rope so tightly that for a moment, I'm worried he'll cut off the circulation. Then he holds up the razor so that it catches the moonlight. Blood stains the side of neck where I cut him, sticking his hair to his skin. I can tell from the way he keeps freezing and wincing that it still causes him pain, but the wound is no longer bleeding. I thought I'd cut him deeply enough to sever his jugular. Then again, I've never driven a blade into flesh before, so I wouldn't know how much force to apply.

My mind is racing with every mistake I've made leading up to this moment, when suddenly it hits me. No matter how much I prepared, no matter how many plans I made, I never had a chance against this man. How foolish was I to think I could outsmart him, let alone kill him?

As I look up at Laito, the wave of loathing that pulses through me is so strong it makes me clench my teeth and ball my hands into fists.

He smirks. “What's wrong? Do you really hate me that much?” He places the razor on the headboard and picks up the stake again. “You _must_ hate me to have come up with something like this. It's impressive, really, how you managed to find the time to make this. Too bad it's useless.” His eyes fall on me and he snickers again. “Did you really believe all those fairytales about a stake to the heart killing vampires? If you really want to get rid of me, there's only one way...” He raises his hand and draws a finger across his throat. “But since you're all tied up, I don't think there's much chance of that happening.”

Maybe he's lying, and I really did come close to killing him. Or maybe he's telling the truth. There's no chance of me finding out, either way.

Slowly, Laito lowers his head to my bloody hand and runs his tongue along the razor wound, making me gasp. “Your blood is so beautiful. It makes me want to tear you open on the spot. But all things in their time, right?”

I frown. Usually, Laito can't wait to start draining my blood. Why is he holding back tonight?

He picks up the hammer lying by my side, flips it and catches it again. Then he places the tip of the stake against my other palm. Only then do I realise what he's going to do.

_No._

I try to kick him again, but he moves so that he's sitting on my hips, crushing me against the mattress under his weight.

“And to think, you were going to hammer this into my chest. Don't you know how much that would hurt?” His eyes sparkle. “Perhaps you should get a taste of your own medicine.”

“P-please don't,” I stammer. No sooner are the words out of my mouth, I grimace. I hate that he's reduced me to begging. But as he pushes the tip of the stake into my palm again, fear grips me. He's never done anything like this before.

“It's quite symbolic, isn't it? Here you are with your arms outstretched, just like your Jesus on the cross. You grew up around priests, didn't you? Think of this as the nail that I'm about to hammer into your hand.” He sighs. “How beautifully poetic.”

“You don't have to do this,” I breathe.

“I know. But I want to.”

Panic clouds my head. I'm shaking, begging like a mad woman, but I no longer care. All I can think about is making him stop. He can do what he wants to me. Just not this. Anything but this.

Laito pulls back the hammer and I scream.

The pain doesn't come. Trembling, I look up at my hand. The head of the hammer hovers an inch above the flat top of the stake. He's stopped it in midair.

Laito's voice is a whisper in the darkness. “ _There's_ that face I love.”

Only then does it dawn on me. This has all been a game. He never had any intention of piercing my hand. He just wanted to hear me beg, see me struggle in fear. I wish there was a way to wipe the terror from my face, but it's too late now. He's already got what he wanted. My mind flips between relief and rage so violently it makes me want to be sick.

“You bastard,” I whisper. Tears well up in my eyes.

Laito drops the weapons to the floor and slaps me so hard across the cheek it makes my head spin.

“Clearly, you haven't learnt your lesson, have you?”

I gasp as he moves off my waist and goes on all fours above me. His hand wraps in my hair again, and he lowers his head to my neck. The tips of his hair brush against my face like feathers, the stench of his drying blood mixed with my own sweat filling my nose.

His tongue traces a line from collar to the base of my ear. Closing my eyes, I brace myself for the pain. Then he takes a breath and bites down.

No matter how many times he does this, I'll never get used to the stab of pain that comes as Laito's fangs sink into my flesh. I try not to give him the satisfaction of crying out, but there's no stopping the strangled cry that bubbles out of my throat.

Laito sighs softly. “Your blood is so delicious. I feel like I'm going crazy.” In just a few seconds, his voice has shifted from taunting to whimpering, like he's on the verge of tears. As he places his lips against the wound again, his hands travel across my chest, pausing to squeeze my breasts through my shirt. Then he takes hold of the material and rips it open, sending buttons flying across the bed.

“Ah.” He looks down at my chest and smiles. There are a few cuts and bruises there, recent wounds that I haven't dared to touch for fear of opening them up again. Laito regards them like an artist admiring his work. “You have such pretty skin, it almost seems a shame to mar it any more. And yet...” He places his middle finger between my breasts and traces a line up to my collar before taking my jaw in his hand. “I think it makes you more beautiful. Wouldn't you agree, Bitch-chan? You're my canvas.”

Instead of replying, I focus my eyes on a point on the ceiling above his shoulder, but he digs his nails into my jaw, demanding an answer. “Yes, I'm sorry.”

“Good,” he says, smiling innocently and grabbing something from the headboard. My heart drops as I realise it's the razor. “Let's make some art, then, shall we?”

With my hands tied so tightly, all I can do is watch in horror as Laito places the corner of the razor against my collar and drags it down, following the line he traced with his finger a moment ago. The blade is sharp enough that it splits my skin like butter, even as I arch my back and grit my teeth against the pain.

“Shh, it's okay.” Laito's fingers dance around my neck, as soft as a lover's. “The more you move, the more blood comes out. It's breathtaking. Look.”

I do as he says and look down at my chest. By the time he lifts the blade between my breasts, the whole cut is leaking blood. My eyes widen.

With the blade still held between thumb and forefinger, Laito slips his hands beneath my shirt, holds me by the waist and runs his tongue along the length of the wound. This time, I can't hold back the agonised cry that rips from my mouth.

The sound Laito makes is halfway between a gasp and a moan. “Yes, scream for me. Let the whole mansion know who you belong to.” He digs his nails into my skin, making me buck my hips against him. A red mist clouds the edges of my vision. All I can concentrate on is the pain racking my body.

“There's blood staining your bra, Bitch-chan. Let's sort that out, shall we?”

His hand leaves my body to slip the razor beneath the bridge of my bra, effortlessly slicing through the material and exposing my breasts. He catches my nipple in his mouth, and for a horrifying moment I think he's going to bite down, but instead he smirks, moves his lips up an inch and sinks his fangs into the soft flesh.

I'm crying properly now, screaming out, begging him to stop. I hate him. I hate him with all my soul and I hate myself for ever having thought I could outsmart him. But most of all, I _hate_ that underneath the pain, the humiliation, a part of me wants more. He's teased me about being a masochist before, though I've always suspected it's for the purpose of his own sick pleasure.

And yet there's no denying the rush of adrenaline that spreads through my veins at his touch, the forbidden ecstasy of knowing that I'm being used by him.

Maybe this is my body's way of coping through these sessions. If I fool myself into believing I'm enjoying this, to find some beauty in the situation, I won't end up losing my mind from his torture.

Or maybe, just maybe, I really _am_ a masochist, just like he says.

Laito's lips shine with blood as he pulls back from me and removes his shirt. His body is slim, pale, flawless in the low light. Then he unbuttons his trousers, and I can see from the sizeable bulge in his black pants underneath that he's not finished with me yet.

He's always been very vocal about his desires, and I know seeing me half-clothed drives him wild, so it's no surprise when the only item of clothing he removes is my underwear. My instincts scream at me to fight him off as he slides my pants down my legs, but there's no point. He's made it clear to me that whatever he wants, he'll take by force, no matter the consequences.

“It seems like a waste to leave all that blood on your chest. Then again, it looks so beautiful on you.” He grins as if he's complimenting a new necklace as opposed to my ravaged body.

There's no way of knowing how much blood I've lost. The cut on my chest is still leaking and my head feels fuzzy, but I'm nowhere near unconsciousness. I suspect Laito has been deliberately holding himself back to draw out my torment for as long as possible.

Humming softly to himself, he places his hands on my knees and forces them apart. As usual, my body has betrayed me and I'm already wet. Laito lowers his head and licks me once with the flat of his tongue, sending shivers through my body. Then he pushes his pants down just enough to free his erection and presses it against my opening.

“Say, Bitch-chan,” he purrs. “Should I make you beg again?” He moves his hips slowly up and down, rubbing the whole of his length against me. After the third time, he slips the head inside, making me gasp.

He smirks. “Too bad. I'm feeling impatient.”

Leaning onto his arms, Laito begins to move with slow thrusts, gradually inching his way inside me. I bend my knees, trying to find a position that'll help me get used to his size.

“There, that's not so bad, is it?” he coos.

I open my mouth to answer, but a sudden push of his hips steals my words away. He's sheathed inside me completely now, filling up that space that only has and ever will belong to him. I tilt my head back and arch my back as he finds a rhythm, the feeling of him sliding into me, stretching me apart, almost too much to bear. The bed creaks slightly beneath his movements.

This is it, the ultimate dominance. There's nowhere left for me to hide, no way for me to turn my face away or stop myself from groaning his name. I can't fight him anymore. He's turned my body traitor against me.

Laito's moans are like church bells, high and lyrical and needy. He sounds younger, somehow. Vulnerable. I almost feel sorry him, this poor creature who can never age, condemned to a life of hunting and sadism because it is the only way he can derive pleasure. Or perhaps that's just my mind trying to justify why I'm letting him do this to me. This is supposed to be an intimate act between lovers, and yet he's managed to turn it into something vile.

Laito lowers himself onto his elbows, pressing our bodies together, and locks lips with me. The taste of blood fills my mouth as his tongue brushes against mine. I have a brief vision of biting down on him, but like all my thoughts of retaliation, it's only a distant fantasy now, so instead I kiss him back, matching the movement of his lips until our mouths are dancing feverishly. His hand brushes against the razor wound, spreading the half-congealed blood over my breast. It's strange, how I barely react to the pain anymore.

“Bitch-chan, I...” Laito moans, his breath hot on my face. His thrusts are becoming faster, harder, and I know it won't be long until he reaches the edge. He slips a hand beneath my back and crushes me to his chest, fingertips digging into my waist so hard I fear he's going to break the skin again. I squeeze my eyes shut and wrap my legs around him. It's the final push he needs.

He cries out as he climaxes, burying his head in my shoulder and gripping the sheets in his hand. When it's finally over and his breathing returns somewhat to normal, he laughs softly.

“Your lip's bleeding. How did that happen?” Laito stretches out a finger to brush a drop of blood off my bottom lip, then places it in his mouth. “Did you bite yourself too hard?”

“I must have,” I mumble. My body is trembling in the wake of what he's just done. It wouldn't surprise me if I'd bit my own lip by accident as he was taking me.

Sighing, Laito pulls out, slides up his pants and zips up his trousers. The fingers of his right hand are drenched in blood. “Shall we loosen those ropes? They don't look very comfortable.”

It's hardly surprising that only now, once he's got what he wants, he chooses to be kind. After all, how can you further degrade someone who's absolutely submitted to you? I stare up at the ceiling as he unties each hand, and then his arms are around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest like we're just a pair of normal lovers sheltering from the world.

“You're never getting free. You know that, don't you?” Laito's voice is as soft as a caress. He runs his fingers through my hair and hums. “You're mine, and I'm happy to teach you that over and over until you learn.”

From his tone, he's expecting a reply, but my mind is already starting to drift from my aching body. I'm sure that if I tried to escape now, he would finally let me. There would be no point in stopping me. In fact, he'd probably relish the thought of me running into one of the other brothers in this state, having them see first hand what he's done to me, like showing off a trophy. But even if I _could_ drag my exhausted body to the door, I'm not sure I would choose to. For a while, at least, I'm content with clinging to him, letting him touch me softly and whisper his sweet nothings in my ear.

Because this is my life now. While Laito may never see me more as his plaything, a part of me wants to fool myself into believing that one day, just one day, he might begin to feel something that resembles love towards me, to make all my suffering worthwhile. Tomorrow, I'll wake up hating him again, plotting my revenge, but now I'm too tired to fight. Even if it's just a fantasy, I _have_ to believe that beneath his exterior, there's something human in there, that all this is some twisted form of love.

And surely that is easier than resisting.


End file.
